Touchstone
by NotSoSpartan
Summary: The events of Sabriel told from Touchstone's point of view, with a little extra at the end about what happened after Kerrigor was defeated, and a little extra at the start to explain the events of 200 years ago. Touchstone x Sabriel, rating may change depending.
1. Prologue

**All characters, and the storyline to the point that I say otherwise, belongs to Garth Nix, not me. This will follow the book, but be told from Touchstone's point of view, instead of a third person P.O.V. The following chapter is fiction based off of the information given by Touchstone that I have tried to keep as true as possible.**

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It was a cold, crisp midsummer's eve when it happened. The leaves had fallen from their trees all around the Caraque pitch, littering the earth with golds, oranges, yellows and browns. I watched as the Queen and her ladies played the sport, giggling and laughing all the time.

"Look, Torrigan, I'm winning!" The Queen announced, allowing only a hint of delight to her lips.  
"That you are, Your Majesty!" I hollered back with a smile, before returning to my watch.

As I did so, I saw Rogir, the Queen's son and my old, childhood friend approaching at a run. "Rogir!" I called, leaving my post to run to him. "What has you riled so?" I got no answer, he merely swerved me and headed for the Queen.  
"The Charter Stone, Mother... Something is not right!" He barked, already backing away.  
"I too am a Mage of the the Charter, Rogir, and I feel nothing amiss. We will wait 'til the morrow, when I am not in the middle of a rather successful game of Caraque!" She replied, throwing her chin defiantly in the air and turning back to the game.

Rogir pulled a sour face, saddened somehow by the lack of faith his own mother would put in his word, before turning to me, anger burning in his eyes. "Torrigan, tell her! There is something seriously amiss with the Stones, and if she does not come now-"  
"I will implore her, Rogir," I informed him, closing my eyes and sighing. "But only because you are a good friend."

His face broke into a smile, and I could have sworn his teeth were more jagged than they should be – almost knife like – but I dismissed it and approached the Queen. "Your Magesty," I began, hand on the hilt of my sword. "I would ask you trust Rogir's judgement, just this once," she looked at me with her cool, green eyes, before letting out an exasperated sigh.  
"Very well, I will take a look," she had eventually agreed, the sun setting behind her like is was melting into the horizon.

Eight of us in total descended into the reservoir – myself, Rogir, three more guards, the Queen, and two of her ladies-in-waiting – but not one of us expected what was being done down there.

Of the six Great Stones, two were broken as we watched from the Queen's barge, floating irreversibly across the still water. They were broken by the blood of his two sisters, the Queen's only daughters, as it spilled from their throats, slit by Free Magic beings.

As the Stones cracked, as if torn asunder by lightning, I felt the shock of it. It was like a physical pain, deep in my chest, that refused me solace no matter how much I begged. But it didn't stop there.

From behind the Queen, Rogir rose his arm, hand clutching a saw-edge blade, and ran it along her throat. All I had managed in that time was to watch, horrified, as he caught what poured from her neck in a golden cup – her golden cup.

The two guards had done nothing also, a fact that I found to be unlikely at best, so I turned to one, to order an attack on Rogir, but he was the one who would do the attacking. He threw himself at me, followed closely by the other guard, and they drew their swords.

I fumbled with my own, the sickness I was feeling from the Stones making my movements less fluid, more jerky. Before I had drawn my weapon, one of them thrust theirs towards my heart.

Vlare, one of the ladies-in-waiting, threw herself across me then, blocking them from harming me, but she had died to save me.

I felt my heart pumping faster, nails digging into both my hand and the hilt of the sword. In a flurry of berserk violence, I drew my sword, looking them both dead in the eye, before ramming it to the hilt into one's chest. I heard him gurgle, felt blood on my shoulder, but I had no time for him. I instead pushed him into the water, creating more ripples.

The second took a swing at me then, aiming directly for my neck, but meeting only my sword. I twisted his from his grip, leaving him looking lost and afraid, before doing unto him what he had wished to do to me.

I wondered where Rogir had gone, as he had not attacked also, and found my answer in the water. He was wading, cup held high, towards his four, black robed sorcerers, all of whom crowded the third Stone.

Out of desperation, I threw my sword and vaulted the side of the barge into the water. As I hit the water, my sword hit Rogir, piercing him just above his heart. He gurgled some insult or another, before turning, cup outstretched, to face me. "You may tear this body," he gurgled, a crazed look to his eyes as he waded back towards me. "Rip it, like some poor-made costume," he continued. I could see his smile now, rotting and grotesque. "But I cannot die."

He continued his advance, stopping but an arms length from me. Behind his cold, dead features was evil, pure evil, coiling and slithering as he reached his arm out to strangle me.

But before he touched me, a light shone, blinding and pure, and the bells – oh, the bells! – they sounded like freedom and salvation against the harsh voices that rose from nowhere.

He flinched back, the cup tumbling from his grip, and the blood spilled into the water, floating on it's surface as if oil.

I turned to regard my saviours. Guardsmen, a column of fire and a man, brandishing sword and bells. But I could cope no more. Whether I slept from the ringing of one of the bells, or whether I simply could not maintain consciousness, I do no know, all I can really remember of that time is that there was a mist that coiled around me, stiflingly thick and horribly incapacitating, forcing me into a state of inability. I could not see either, with the grey patches that blinded me, in my inert state.

I hated it.

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**Thanks for reading, please R&R so that I know if people are enjoying this or not!**


	2. Chapter 1

Red light flashed, my limbs began to work again, and pain lanced through my every muscle, each one groaning as I fought to move. The grey mist that had trapped me receded, movement became easier, and relief washed over me.

Colours filled my bleary eyes, my lungs filling in a desperate attempt to continue living, and as the colours began to retreat back to their own territory, I saw a pale face hovering above me. She was a woman, I realised, with dark, flowing hair and beautiful eyes to match. She was battered, bruised, and armoured like no woman I had seen before, in all my years of life, yet it seemed not to detract from her appearance.

All I could manage to mutter was a "Thank you," whispered breathily and barely more audible than a mouse fleeing a larder. My still blurry eyes searched for some clue as to who – or what – she was, and I soon found it. The surcoat she wore was that of an "Abhorsen."

I was asleep once more, but this time, it was true sleep, not the pseudo-sleep I had been immersed in after my fight with Rogir.

I don't know how long I slept, but something I did know was that it was no where near as long as it had been the first time, nor was it as exhausting as it had been. It was somehow warmer too.

I woke with a start, feeling something covering my mouth and nose like the stifling mist I had been shrouded in. When I opened my eyes to find only grey, I panicked, fighting with it as if it were Rogir when we were children, and soon the blanket I had been wrapped in fell away from me, leaving me feeling stupid and vulnerable. Fresh air greeted me, carrying the scent of the sun with it, and I noticed that there was in fact sunlight filtering down from above, but I could see it in no other direction. I looked to the sky, seeing the red tinted dawn high above me, and walls that blocked my view of the rest of the sky.

It was a sink hole, I realised, but where? Determined to find out, I glanced around, tall masts, black sails, and unfinished ships told me all I needed to know. "Holehallow..." I muttered with a frown. _Why am I here? _I thought to myself. With a glance at my chest, I realised something else, too. _Why am I naked?_

I sat up, shaking my head, regretting it almost immediately. My temples were throbbing something horrible, and I felt as if I had been drinking heavily, and was now suffering the consequences. Had I been drinking? No, I hadn't. I'd been accompanying the Queen, at Rogir's request. The stones... There was something wrong with the Charter Stones!

No. No, there wasn't. Rogir had tricked us, made me vouch for him, and killed them, and tried to kill me, and then-

The young, battered, bloody face swam into my mind, skin pale as snow, hair black as night, and a deep blue surcoat, emblazoned with keys of silver. She was the Abhorsen. _I must have been sleeping for a long time, for the Abhorsen to have changed. I was sure that he was a man-  
_"She's washing at the spring," a soft voice purred. "She got up before the sun. Cleanliness is a wonderful thing."

I looked around, trying to find the source of the voice, to find only a white cat with bright, green eyes staring at me as he curled in a strange looking hole in a nearby ship. The hole was where the figurehead should have been, I noted.

"What are you?" I asked, looking for a weapon. I knew that things were not always what they seemed, especially out of the city. This cat could be anything.

In my search, I found only a pile of clothes, weighted down by a rock. Slowly, I reached for it, planning to either throw it or wait for the cat to approach and then bludgeon it. "Don't be alarmed," he remarked, licking his paw to clean it. "I'm but a faithful retainer of the Abhorsen. Name of Mogget. For the moment."

My fingers closed around the rock, but I did not lift it. I recognised him somewhat. "You were bigger when we last met," I said, cautious. I could have been wrong, but I was somewhat certain that this was the same, white vortex that had accompanied the Abhorsen who had saved me however long ago it was.  
"Have we met?" He wondered aloud with a yawn. "Dear me," he began. "I can't recall. What was the name?" _Good question_. I thought.

Other names came easily; Maere, Saul, Jora, Maddel, Shale, Kirth, Rogir- Rogir... I grimaced, a low rumble ripping from my chest as I recalled the things that had happened.

"Unusual name," the cat-thing mused. "More of a bear's name, that growl. Do you mind if I call you Touchstone?"  
"What!?" I roared. "That's a fool's name! How dare-"  
"Is it unfitting?" Mogget asked, coolly. "Do you remember what you've done?" I did remember. I remembered exactly, and with that, I remembered that my name meant nothing now. I was not worthy of it any longer.  
"Yes, I remember," I whispered. "You may call me Touchstone, but I will call you-" I choked on the word, tried a second time, and came to the same result.  
"You can't say it," the cat informed me. "A spell tied to the corruption of– but I can't say it, nor tell anyone the nature of it or how to fix it. You won't be able to talk about it either and there may be other effects. Certainly, it has affected me."  
"I see," I replied, adamant that I would not try the name again. "Tell me, who rules the Kingdom?"

The cat looked at me, a wry smile in his green eyes, before replying with, "No one."

"A regency, then. That is perhaps-"  
"No, no regency." He clarified. "No one reigns. No one rules. There was a regency at first but it declined... With help."

"What do you mean at first? What exactly happened? Where have I been?"

He straightened himself, stretching and yawning to show his pink tongue soon afterwards, and continued. "The regency lasted one hundred and eighty years. Anarchy has held sway for the last twenty, tempered by what a few remaining loyalists could do. And you, my boy, have been adorning the front of this ship as a lump of wood for the last two hundred years."

"The family?" I asked desperately.  
"All dead and past the Final Gate, save one, who should be. You know who I mean."

_Rogir._ I thought bitterly. The news of the Royal family had hit me hard, and I could feel the tears prickling at the sides of my eyes. My head fell, hitting my chest lightly, as I was forced to stare at my upturned hands. The sobs began then, racking my body in a choking, juddering movement that I couldn't stop. "There's no point crying over it. Plenty of people have died trying to put the matter to rights. Four Abhorsens have fallen in this century alone, trying to deal with the Dead, the broken stones and the – the original problem. My current Abhorsen certainly isn't lying around crying her eyes out. Make yourself useful and help her."

I looked at the cat, curled once more in the hole of the ship where I had apparently been acting as a figurehead for the last two hundred years, and wondered exactly how much he remembered, and how much he was able to say. It was safe to assume that at best we were able to voice the same amount of information. "Can I?" I asked, wiping my face with the blanket that had tricked me into thinking I was back in the shroud of grey mist.

"Why not?" He cocked his head to the side, green eyes catching the dim light that filtered from above, then righted himself. "Get dressed, for a start. There are some things aboard here for you as well. Swords and suchlike."

I gritted my teeth. "But I'm not fit to wield royal-"  
"Just do as you're told. Think of yourself as the Abhorsen's sworn sword-hand, if it makes you feel better, though in this present era, you'll find common sense more important that honour." He informed, and began grooming himself.

"Very well."

All but the trousers fit me. I found this out in the most embarrassing way possible, unable to get them past my thighs as the cat watched me hop around like an imbecile with laughter in his eyes. "There is a kilt and leggings in one of the chests back here," the feline seemed to be laughing at me, despite the fact that he was mostly silent, but regardless, I took his advice, clambering up through the hole while trying to stay as far away from the Mogget creature as possible. "You won't tell her?" I blurted. He seemed to cock a brow at me, as much as a cat could.  
"Tell who? Tell what?"  
"Abhorsen." I said simply, but that obviously wasn't enough. "Please, I'll do all I can to help. But it wasn't intentional. My part, I mean. Please, don't tell her-"  
"Spare me the pleadings," Mogget interupted, sounding thoroughly disgusted with me. "I can't tell her. You can't tell her. The corruption is wide and the spell rather indescriminate. Hurry up – she'll be back soon. I'll tell you the rest of our current saga while you dress."  
And that he did. He told of how she had arrived at the Abhorsen's house one day, having avoided a Mordicant, and how the following day they had found the Dead attempting to bridge the running water she had crossed to get to the house. She had reacted by performing a ritual that called the flood waters, sweeping them away in a great torrent of water, only to flee in a Paperwing. They were attacked again, by Gore Crows, and ended up in a sinkhole much like Holehallow. Mogget seemed to miss something at this point, ending his speech by saying, "And then we came here and found _you._"

I nodded, fastening my sword belt. Sabriel seemed an amazing person... Could I really protect someone like that?


	3. Chapter 2

Having dressed myself, I waited on the ship's bow, facing away from the direction Mogget had indicated the spring was in. I was struggling with a red jerkin, with detachable, lace up sleeves which were unnecessarily fiddly and difficult to lace up. "Curse these laces," I grumbled, continuing to fiddle with them.  
"Good morning."  
Without hesitation, I whirled, ducking for my swords, but seeing who it was before I could grab them. It was her – the Abhorsen. She was no longer bloodied, her pale skin free of most of the cuts and scrapes it had been marred with when I had first seen her. She truly was beautiful.

I hastily turned the duck into a bow, and then dropped to one knee. "Good morning, milady." I was careful to keep my eyes away from hers, for fear of offending her or even beginning to blush from my humiliation.  
"It's not milady," she said firmly. "My name is Sabriel." _Even her name is beautiful..._ I thought absently, before I managed to process properly what she had said.  
"Sabriel? But... You are the Abhorsen." I sounded like an idiot. Perhaps Touchstone _was _an appropriate name for me...

"No, my father is the Abhorsen." Her face was stern as she glanced at the cat. "I'm sort of a stand-in. It's a bit complicated, so I'll explain later. What's you name?" I swallowed, the name floating into my head. _Torrigan._  
"I can't remember, milady." I refused to use her true name. "Please, call me... Call me Touchstone."

She seemed to think for a second, as if unable to place the name, before saying, "Touchstone? But that is a jester's name, a fool's name. Why call you that?"  
"That's what I am," I retorted dully.

"Well, I have to call you something," she paused. "Touchstone. You know there is a tradition of a wise fool, so perhaps it's not so bad. I guess you think you're a fool because you've been imprisoned as a figurehead – and in Death, of course."

The news shocked me into forgetting myself, and I raised my head to meet her eyes. "In Death!?"

"Your spirit was somehow preserved beyond the border of Death and your body preserved as the wooden figurehead. Both necromantic and Free Magic would have been involved, Very powerful magic, on both counts. I am curious as to why it was used on you."

I looked away once more, ashamed by the truth I was going to have to tell. Perhaps I could lie? Only a slight lie, of course, but it would be for the best. "I don't remember very well," I began, wary of how convincing I sounded. "Though things are coming back. I am... I was... A guardsman. The Royal guard. There was some sort of attack upon the Queen... An ambush in the-" I was unable to say the word, so I corrected myself. "At the bottom of the stairs. I remember fighting, with blades and Charter Magic – we were all Charter Mages, all the guard. I thought we were safe, but there was treachery... Then... I was here. I don't know how."

Her face seemed to soften as I finished, a sympathetic smile appearing on her face. "You have been a prisoner for a long time. Have you... Did you... Well, what I mean, is it's been a very long time-"

"Two hundred years," I whispered bitterly. "Your minion told me."

"Your family..."

"I have none."

With that, I drew one of my swords, offering her the hilt of it. "I would serve you, milady, to fight against the enemies of the Kingdom." She reached out to take the sword, but curled her hand at the last minute and let it fall back to her side.  
"What have you told him, Mogget?"  
"The state of the Kingdom, generally speaking," he replied with a yawn. "Recent events. Our descent here, more or less. Your duty as Abhorsen to remedy the situation."

"The Mordicant? Shadow Hands? The Gore Crows? The Dead adept, whoever it might be?" She pried.

"Not specifically. I thought he could presume as much."

In response, she went on to tell me that the cat creature had not been entirely honest – something that did not come as too much of a shock to me, in all honest, and then explained that because of that she would not take my oath. "And please remember that my name is Sabriel. Not milady. Not Abhorsen," she added sternly. "Now, I think it's time for breakfast."

She walked to her pack then, pulling oatmeal and a cooking pot from it. I watched her move for all of a second, but in that time I saw that she held herself like a lady would, despite the fact that she was no doubt deadly. The surcoat hugged her frame in all the right places, and I found myself becoming less and less able to focus the longer I looked at her.

I preoccupied myself with putting on the jerkin that had annoyed me so, tying the sleeves to my sword belt and attaching the swords to the hooks on it, before heading towards the trees to gather firewood. The annoying cat followed me.

"She really did grow up in Ancelstierre," he began, sitting on his haunches and licking at his paws once more. "She doesn't realise refusing your oath is an insult. And it's true enough about her ignorance. That's one of the reasons she needs your help."  
"I can't remember much," I commented, snapping a branch in half with all of the frustration that had built up inside me. "Except my most recent past. Everything else is like a dream. I'm not sure if it's real or not, learned or imagined." I began, then remembered his remark about insulting me. "And I wasn't insulted," I snapped. "My oath isn't worth much."  
"But you'll help her."  
"No." I said, and his feline features seemed to show shock. "Help is for equals. I'll serve her. That's all I'm good for."

Breakfast was quiet as we attempted to share the oatmeal. There was only one spoon, so we were having to take it in turns, and I was strangely conscious of the fact that we were quiet possibly sharing saliva – a fact that would have normally repulsed me, but didn't seem to have that effect given who it was. She had tried to ask me questions about my past, too, but unfortunately they had all been ones that I either could not remember the answer to, or could remember the answer to but just didn't want to tell her. I soon began to annoy myself with the amount of times I had said, "I'm sorry, I can't remember."

She sighed deeply after we had both finished, and I was about to slap myself for saying those words enough to prompt that sort of response. I didn't want to annoy her, but there was little else I could do. It was then that she asked if I could remember how to get out of Holehallow. She didn't seem very hopeful.  
"No, I'm sorry..." I began automatically, but something was coming back to me. "Wait! Yes - I do remember! There's a hidden stair, to the north of King Janeurl's ship... Oh, I can't remember which that one is..." I was close to slapping myself again, but she began speaking before I could.  
"There are only four ships in the northern rim, it won't be too hard to find. How's your memory for other geography? The Kingdom, for instance?"  
"I'm not sure," I replied, my head falling again. I felt so useless, unable to remember even the most simple of things... I hated it.

"Mogget drew me a map, but he apparently only left Abhorsen's house for a few weekends over the last thousand years, even two hundred year old memories..." She trailed off, and I looked up only to find her biting her lip. "What I mean is, it would be very helpful if you could advise me on the best route to Belisaere, and the important landmarks and locations on the way."

She fished the map from a pocket in the pack, unwrapping it carefully and removing the oilskin it was wrapped in, and I rushed to weighed the two corners nearest to me down with nearby rocks. She did the same with a cylindrical case. "I think we're about here," she said, pointing to the point marked as _Abhorsen's House _and trailing the path she assumed the Paperwing had taken to a point a little north of the Ratterlin river.

"No," I said, with confidence. I jabbed the map about an inch north of her own slender, pale finger. "This is Holehallow, here. It's only ten leagues from the coast, and at the same altitude as Mount Anarson."  
"Good!" She exclaimed, a smile lighting her face. "You do remember. Now, what's the best route to Belisaere and how long will it take?"

After stumbling over what to call her again, almost calling her milady in my response, we figured out that it would take eighteen days riding, or around six weeks walking. Mogget had a better idea, though. He suggested that if we took a boat from Newstowe we could get there quicker. The condition was that we figure out how to sail it.


	4. Chapter 3

We found the steps soon after the search began, despite the fact that Sabriel became increasingly annoyed at my lack of knowledge. They were, as I had predicted, hidden by one of the four ships in the Northern section of Holehallow. That was enough to lighten my mood to some degree, though I was far from a full recovery.

We decided that our ascent of the steps could wait until the following morning, seeing as there were still some wounds that had not quite healed and I think they may have underestimated my recovery, also. I was glad for the respite, regardless.  
As soon as the stairs were found, Sabriel sat in the tall grass not far from them and began reading a book whose title I could not quite make out. Instead of remaining as useless as I felt, I took my swords to the other side of the ship that had helped us find the staircase and practiced my sword skills. The two hundred years of sleep had done nothing to blunt them, it seemed, as I was more than competent, as I had been before my run in with Rogir.

Once we had grown bored of our respective activities, lunch was attempted. I use the term attempted only because it wasn't exactly... Well, good. And I don't mean in comparison to palace standards. I mean in comparison to a novice trying for the first time. We had strips of dried, strangely chewy beef with watercress we had gathered from the spring. They didn't exactly complement each other.

I didn't help lighten the mood either. I had exhausted myself with my activities, so gave short answers to any question asked and even slipped back into saying 'Milady' instead of Sabriel, even though she kept reminding me otherwise.

Our activities were taken back up as soon as lunch was over, the strange cat watching me from the undergrowth as I tested my limits in hopes of finding where I would have to call it quits. Dinner was not something I was looking forwards to at all, more for fear of angering the Abhorsen more than having to deal with the culinary failure yet again.

Dinner ended as I had predicted, though the cat thing had seemingly decided to annoy the Abhorsen himself, taking to being entirely unhelpful. We all went to sleep afterwards, hoping that sleep might bring some miracle where either I or the cat creature could explain exactly what was going on.  
The night was not a good one for me, though. I woke with a start more than once, the dreams of Rogir and the Stones scaring me awake, and the feel of the blanket reminding me too much of the stifling fog that had kept me sleeping for so long. No, I decided, I had slept far too much already.  
I took to sitting beside the dead fire, reigniting it to keep myself warm and out of the wretched blanket. I would stab at it with a stick as it tried to smother itself, and throw another piece of wood on it when the flame began to dwindle, but I did little else in my waking hours.

"Are you alright?" The voice startled me, my body involuntarily rocking backwards, threatening to floor me, but I recovered quickly.  
"Not really," I replied, instinctively telling the truth rather than lying to make things easier on her. "I remember what I would not and forget what I should not." I turned back to the fire in shame. "Forgive me." I paused, the red-gold flames slowly consuming the log I had laid upon it most recently. "Please, go back to sleep milady. I will wake you in the morning."

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw her mouth open, no doubt to protest about the way I was acting, but she shut it again and slipped back under her blanket.

As the light spilled into Holehallow, I started again, this time using the involuntary movement to stand. I looked to the sky, instinctively rubbing a hand across my jaw, where stubble scratched at my already calloused hands.  
I pulled a dagger from the pack, looking at it's sharp, reflective surface briefly before bringing it to my throat to begin shaving. _You could end it, Torrigan_. Rogir's voice came unbidden to my mind, his words as cheery and sadistic as ever. I could, though. I could end it all here. All the feeling that boiled inside me, all the uselessness, all the bad memories-  
No. No, I was more use protecting the Abhorsen than feeding worms. I would fight, I would protect her, and if I died trying... So be it. But I would not die of my own accord.

I shaved quickly, cutting myself accidentally on several occasions and took a wash afterwards, before beginning to make the breakfast from the oats Mogget had pointed out.

I heard the cat creature wake Sabriel with the repetition of the same phrase. "Wake up! Wake up!" Over and over as he darted over her form as she attempted to go back to sleep."I'm awake," she eventually grumbled, sitting up with the blanket she had slept under still wrapped around her.  
"Good morning," I said with a glance in her direction. "This will be ready in five minutes, milady." She groaned, probably at my use of the word milady, the stood and headed for the spring.

She returned not long afterwards, looking more awake than she had when she had left, and ate her share of the porridge before handing me the bowl and spoon. I ate as she armoured herself, Mogget laying nearby and warming himself by the fire I had built in the middle of the night.

I cleaned the pot and spoon once breakfast was over, throwing water from the spring on the fire to kill it once I was done, and then began to pack everything away. Just as I was about to put the pack on, Sabriel shouted at me to stop. I halted, meeting her dark eyes as her brows curled into a frown. "It's my pack, Touchstone." I raised a brow, sliently asking what that had to do with anything, before she continued. "I'll carry it, thank you."

Reluctantly, I removed my arm from the strap and handed it to her. I would have helped her put it on, but she had it on her back before I could take the weight. I felt useless again.

We set off as soon as the pack was on, Sabriel following a few steps behind me as I lead her up the stairs. I remembered that there were guards on these stairs, and not just the physical kind. Some where made entirely of Charter magic, a skill I had always admired but never mastered. Or even become a novice at, for that did, however, know the words and marks to force them to allow passage.

Half a hour later, by my estimation at least, we stopped in an alcove to catch our breath. Sabriel's voice called to me from behind a few minutes in. "Perhaps we should take it in turns to carry the pack." There was reluctance in her voice, I could tell, but regardless I acquiesced. She must have needed a break from it. I turned my head to look at her, seeing the sweat glistening on her brow, and nodded before moving down a few steps to take the pack. "I'll lead then," she added, flexing her back and rolling her shoulders. She took the candle she had laid on the alcove's bench and stepped up, in an attempt to over take me, but I stopped her by moving across the step to get in her way."No, there are guards - and guardians - on this stair. I know the words and signs to pass them. You are the Abhorsen," I said her title hesitantly, trying not to flare her anger, "So they might let you pass, but I am not sure."

The expression she showed was one of slight annoyance, as she said, "Your memory must be coming back," with slight bitterness. "Tell me, is this stair the one you mentioned when you said the Queen was ambushed?"  
"No," I almost snapped, but I kept my tone flat to hide the guilt and anger. I wasn't sure if I would be able to add more, but I tried nonetheless. "That stair was in Belisaere."

I turned and started back up the staircase after that, muttering words and creating Charter marks as we reached the guardians which had been placed here many, many years ago.


End file.
